The Difference Between Kindness and Flattery
by SamisforSamurai
Summary: Arthur Kirkland is more confident about Alfred's body than Alfred is. Too bad that's mainly because of Alfred's image issues. UKUS, T for partial nudity and intimate gestures as well as body insecurities.


_Just a reminder: Arthur probably isn't employing the best methods to keep Alfred from being insecure. And remember, if someone says they're insecure about something and don't want you to touch it, don't touch it without explicit permission. _

_Arthur doesn't like being told what to do and frankly Alfred is one of the few that might feel better if they're touched a certain area they don't like, but he is one of the few, and if someone ever says they don't want you to touch some place, don't. _

* * *

It had been a long while since Alfred and Arthur had combined their closets. It had been hell for the first week, what with Arthur's somewhat obsessive tendencies towards keeping everything organized, but by now they'd come to a compromise. Doctor Who and 'Keep Calm and Carry On' T-shirts were hung up proudly alongside Superman and 'I Love NY' ones, with all of their dress shirts hung neatly in the opposite side of the closet.

The only time it ever really caused a problem was when they actually had to use the dress shirts.

After all, the T-shirts were far more differentiated, with logos that revealed rather obvious whose shirts they were. With that settled, Arthur wouldn't accidentally have a too-big shirt, and Alfred wouldn't be stuck stretching out one that was made for someone with smaller shoulders and a much thinner waist.

The dress shirts, however, had no such distinctions. Meaning that, far too often, Arthur would end up with a shirt that came down too far past his hips and was simply too big.

Alfred was better at picking out which shirt would fit, given that it was simply too embarrassing to try to button something across his middle when it wouldn't even meet the other side, but even he had his off days.

Like today, for example.

Arthur had been startled from his mid-morning tea when he heard an embarrassed yelp from upstairs. Fearing the worst, he left his tea on the table and rushed up the stairs, throwing open the door. Instead of a snake or a giant spider or worse, something of the supernatural sort, Alfred was simply struggling to button a shirt.

"...This is what I gave up my tea for?" Arthur asked, sighing irritably.

Alfred gave him a long look, face a bright red. "I didn't shove it out of your hands. It was your choice to come up here," he said defensively, cheeks puffing out a bit with his lips forming a pronounced pout.

Choosing not to argue that for fear of Alfred getting a delusion of being right-which he most certainly was _not_-Arthur simply crossed his arms over his chest and frowned impressively. "You've put on the wrong shirt before, Alfred. It's not a big deal."

Instead of feeling better, Alfred simply felt worse and he shook his head. "This is my shirt. And it almost fit, but..." He bit his lip, sliding it off of him and bringing it up for examination, revealing that the button right across his middle had been broken off, most likely from force.

"Oh, pardon me. So my tea was interrupted by your weight crisis?" he asked sarcastically. "That makes it loads better. Quite glad I made such a good decision." Despite his tone, he really was only irritated because he'd feared the worst, and Alfred was nowhere close to danger.

Alfred's face only heated up more with that comment, and he looked away from him, too embarrassed to even bother with looking him in the eye. "Don't make fun of me, you know I've been trying to diet."

Now fearing that he'd make Alfred cry if he kept up any sort of sarcastic tone, Arthur sighed and tried to appear a bit more consoling. As much as he liked being the one to help Alfred when he was upset, it wasn't exactly his favorite task in the world given that it involved Alfred being upset in the first place. "Don't be so upset, love. Give me the shirt and I can sew the button back on, if it means so much."

"But it still doesn't fit!" Alfred argued, hands fisting into the comforter and sheets. "I bought it 'cause I thought it'd fit by now but-"

Arthur frowned at him, holding a finger over Alfred's lips. "You bought it when it was too small already? And you expected it to fit?" He paused, not entirely aware that Alfred had been so serious about 'dieting', since he usually lasted about three days before giving in. "...How long ago did you even buy it?" Not to mention, a closer look revealed that it wasn't far off from Arthur's own size, and he knew he had a smaller bone structure than Alfred anyways.

"Two weeks ago."

It took the Brit a few moments to process that, and he opened his mouth to reply a few times, shutting it without a sound each time. Finally, he let out a long sigh, closing his eyes and opening them at length. "...And what possessed you to think that you'd be thin enough to fit into my size after just two weeks?"

"I've actually been trying to diet this time, though," Alfred insisted, apparently not seeing his oversight. "Why?"

"Bar starving yourself-which you will _not be allowed to do under any circumstance_," Arthur replied firmly, voice almost angry, "-There is no conceivable way you can lose enough weight to fit into something that's just _one size up from mine._"

Alfred was quiet a while, blinking up at him. "It's only one size up? But I checked the internet recently and it's a healthy weight to be that size with my height."

"Sizing charts aren't always accurate, and they don't always account for muscle, let alone bone structure," Arthur snapped, thoroughly irritated that he hadn't noticed just how far Alfred had been looking into 'dieting'. "Besides, why are you so set on losing weight in the first place? You look fine."

There was a tense moment, but it was blessedly brief. "You didn't say I looked fine last week. You told me not to have the last of the ice cream because otherwise I wouldn't be able to fit through the door to the meeting room."

"Did you actually think I was serious?" Arthur asked, somewhat offended that Alfred would think so little of him.

Alfred looked just as offended, and hurt on top of that, and it was all Arthur could do to keep from getting upset on his behalf. "If you weren't serious then why did you say it? You know I don't like looking like this."

Instead of replying, the Brit simply kept his mouth shut and moved closer, settling onto Alfred's lap. Within seconds, Arthur had slid the undershirt Alfred had on back over his head, tossing it to the side before unbuttoning Alfred's trousers.

"I'm really not interested in pity-sex," Alfred snapped, starting to push him away, though he couldn't do it very well when he also wanted to use both hands to cover his stomach, feeling heat behind his eyes as tears welled up.

"You are damn gorgeous," Arthur interrupted, pushing him flat against the bed and straddling his thighs properly. "Don't believe anything else. I don't care if it's me or anyone else telling you."

Alfred's breath hitched, but he morphed it into a hiss before Arthur could get a proper read on what he was saying. "Liar."

Arthur glared, but instead of shouting like he was tempted to, he simply gripped Alfred's chin between his thumb and index finger and forced him to look up at him properly. "Even if I was a liar, I still love you. And obviously I'm not shallow enough to leave you if you were fat. And obviously you trusted me enough not to leave you given that you're still here, right now, and you could easily push me off." His glare intensified slightly, and his gaze fell deeper. "Now. Explain where you got that ridiculous notion in the first place, especially since you aren't even fat in the first place."

The room was silent for a while, and neither seemed willing to do much other than breathe, given that both were panting either from an outburst or exertion.

Finally, though, Alfred broke the silence. "Your stupid closet with your stupid clothes mixed in with mine." His expression looked positively tortured, and though it was obvious that he wasn't telling the full truth, what little he was telling really was true.

"That's it?" Arthur asked, staring at him for a while. Apparently he deemed Alfred's excuse satisfactory, because after a few moments he sighed. "If it bothers you so much, we can use separate closets."

Alfred bit his lip, shaking his head. "I like sharing a closet with you. I really do. But half the time I'll reach in there and try to put on a shirt and it won't even pull all the way around me. It's... It's just a little frustrating." There was no response further than that, and soon after he didn't even have the energy to look Arthur in the eye.

As much as Arthur wanted to react negatively, he couldn't bring himself to. After all, he'd known for a long time that Alfred wasn't the most content with his appearance-and even if he hadn't seen Alfred actively dieting as much as he'd claimed to just minutes ago, he knew that the other had problems with self-perception and was always looking for some new fad diet to try.

There were harsh tones bubbling just beneath the surface, and Arthur wanted to yell and scream until Alfred understood that he was absolutely beautiful and anyone that said otherwise-even Alfred, even himself when he was feeling crabby-was completely, without a doubt, wrong.

But, he also wanted to actually make the situation better-not worse-and Arthur had to take a few deep breaths to make sure he wouldn't make Alfred want to hide this from him again.

Arthur carefully cupped Alfred's cheek, smoothing a thumb over the top of the soft skin. "Alfred, I'm going to think that you're beautiful no matter what you think you look like," he said, voice low as he made better use of his perch on Alfred's lap.

The American stared up at him, eyes wide and somewhat guarded despite the blush on his face. He didn't push Arthur off, though, though it wasn't entirely obvious whether he was still because he wanted to hear what the other had to say or was just frozen with fear.

Leaning down, the Brit trailed a hand along Alfred's sides, sighing lightly at how much Alfred had blown that tiniest bit of softness completely out of proportion. "And I'm not going to stop you if you decide you need to diet, but love..." he trailed off. "You're a complete idiot for thinking anything less of yourself than what you are."

The room was quiet for a few moments more, and Alfred finally brought his arms away from his stomach, though considering he instead just hid his now bright-red face, Arthur wasn't sure if it was an improvement.

"Come on, don't do that," Arthur said gently, a small smile on his face as he pried Alfred's hands from his face. "I want to see that lovely face of yours-even if it does look like someone accidentally painted it red."

"Don't be an ass," Alfred muttered, smacking Arthur's hands away. However, he did end up pulling both hands away from his face shortly after, though he fixed his eyes on an adjacent wall. "Did you really mean all of that?"

Arthur rolled his eyes, smacking Alfred lightly on the arm. "No, I meant literally nothing and I'm a completely shallow twat when my boyfriend needs the encouragement and support that I so often forget he needs since he has an ego the size of a small country."

Instead of immediately replying, Alfred just scoffed, looking to the wall opposite but still not at Arthur. "Boosting my self esteem and calling me an idiot in the same sentence. Impressive."

"Shut up, I'm not done complimenting you yet," Arthur interrupted, pulling Alfred in for a deep kiss, taking full advantage of his higher position. His knees quickly gripped against Alfred's sides, not caring in the slightest that Alfred squeaked a little from having those particular areas squished. Instead, he simply pressed a hand to his boyfriend's bare chest, pushing him down further when he came up to kiss him in return.

Alfred gave him an odd look, opening his mouth to say something. Arthur simply put a finger to his boyfriend's lips.

"I said that I wasn't done complimenting you yet, but if you're so insistent, I suppose I ought to let you go," Arthur said with a grin. "You're handsome, you know." He lightly pressed further into Alfred's chest for a moment before smoothing his hand down. When he got to his boyfriend's lower stomach, he felt him squirm under him, clearly uncomfortable. But Arthur knew that Alfred knew that he'd stop if he asked, so he didn't move off of him. "I don't care whether I can see every bit of your muscles or not. You're still very attractive, I'll have you know."

Though he looked almost as if he'd say something, Alfred quieted any protests he might have. "...Go on?"

Arthur bit back a comment about Alfred's ego and instead just pressed a kiss to his forehead. "You're smarter than you let on, too. It's no excuse for intentionally acting like an idiot, but all the same, you're capable of being quite intelligent, which, I suppose, is what matters." He smiled, running a hand through Alfred's hair.

Half against Alfred's own will, he relaxed. The tension that had been present since before Arthur was even in the room gradually evaporated, and Alfred half-lidded his eyes, peering through his eyelashes to see his boyfriend. "And even if I wasn't, even if I wasn't... would you still love me?"

"What a question," Arthur said carefully. "But... I suppose I would. Possibly. You'd hardly be the same person so I can't really say for sure now can I?"

Alfred considered him for a while, then frowned. "You're not good at this sort of thing, are you?"

Arthur rolled his eyes and smacked him lightly on the arm. "I'm not used to hearing such an insecure tone from you, that's all. You should be as confident as you normally act. It suits you more, and it makes far more sense, since you really are quite lovely."

With a sigh, Alfred wrapped his arms around Arthur's waist, pulling him a little closer. "If you say so. I just, it's not so much what I look like now. I don't want to disgust you if I ever am bigger than this."

Finally understanding, Arthur gently ran a hand through Alfred's hair. "I'll never leave you just because of your weight, Al. If you become obsessive about it and get shallow and self-absorbed and you your personality, yes, I'll probably stop loving you so much, and I may leave you. But that's because I love you for you. I don't give a damn about what you look like, really, so long as you're healthy." He paused, then added, "And, well, I suppose if you weren't I'd try to help get you healthy, but that would be out of concern for your health, not looks, you understand?"

It was obvious that Alfred had been listening with rapt attention, and he was quick to blush. He didn't speak for quite a while, but there was obvious relief in his eyes and smile, and he leaned up just enough to give Arthur a kiss. "Thanks."

"Anytime," Arthur assured him, returning the kiss with just a bit more heat, tracing a hand down Alfred's sides. "Now we ought to finish getting ready-the meeting is in less than half an hour."

Alfred groaned but didn't protest further, instead just lifting Arthur off of him so he could go find something to wear. "Y'know, you're really bad at seizing the moment. You were like, right on top of me. And you didn't even try to start something."

Arthur rolled his eyes, standing up after him and placing one hand on Alfred's hip. "Maybe I'm planning on surprising you later," he said, voice low and almost raspy, a crooked smile on his lips.

Despite the shiver that went down Alfred's spine at the tone, he quickly covered it up and spun around to face him. "Well, either way. You can't complain about not topping as much as I do if you never bother to take control, you know."

Offended, Arthur roughly shoved Alfred against the wall, hardly giving him time to think. "I can take control plenty well. All it takes is a bit of planning, really," he said, continuing in that low voice, apparently wanting to regain his dignity for such a slight. "Now. Either get clothes on so we can go to the meeting or take them off. Your choice."

And that, it seemed, was enough to get Alfred to react.

Needless to say, both the bed and the closet were thoroughly reorganized by the end of the day, though admittedly mussing up the bed was far more fun than just dividing Alfred and Arthur's dress shirts to proper sizes.


End file.
